Pins and Pricks
by SirLancelotTheBrave
Summary: Athos is wallowing in misery after a mission gone wrong. Aramis and Porthos come to remind him that danger does not always come from their enemies. Sometimes they take it into their own hands. Copious OT3 smut ensues.


**AN: Just some good ol' fashioned OT3 smut. Title credit of WizzKiz, who almost choked to death laughing about this idea while Skyping, so I went ahead and called it that in her honor ;)**

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><p>Athos didn't bother lighting a candle when he made it at last to his quarters. He didn't need one, not to find the bottles stashed beneath his bed, nor to sit on the floor and drink until he forgot the events of the last twenty four hours.<p>

He'd never failed quite this spectacularly before, not since he arrived in Paris. Not since the day Treville had buckled on his shoulder guard and the king had granted him his commission.

He slumped down on the floor, one hand rummaging absently beneath the wood frame of the bed. How had such a simple mission gone so terribly awry?

His miscalculation could've got them all killed.

Athos's hand found a bottle at last, but before he could pull it out, he heard footsteps on the stairs outside his quarters. He froze, hoping they would pass by and leave him to drink away his sorrows in peace, but when had he ever been that lucky?

The footsteps stopped just outside the door.

"He's locked it." The speaker sounded thoroughly unimpressed as the handle rattled faintly. Athos watched it with a curious sense of detachment, wondering if a locked door was enough of deterrence.

"I c'n open it." The sound of metal scraping against metal came, presumably as a dagger was inserted into the flimsy lock.

Apparently not.

Athos straightened as the door swung open, withdrawing his hand from his hidden stash. A moment later two figures strode into the room, framed for a moment by the light from the street before the door was closed once more.

Athos sat silently, aware they were aiming for the dramatic and refusing to play along. He was rewarded when something connected with the side of his leg, followed by a clatter and crash and a muffled, "shit."

"Why the fuck aren't there any candles, Athos?" Porthos growled, and a hand found his shoulder before reaching past to search for Aramis's sprawled form.

"I could've died, Athos!" Aramis cried aggrievedly, disentangling his legs from Athos's.

_Exactly_, Athos wanted to say. _You could have_. But he did not speak as they fumbled for matches, locating some candles on the table at last.

A flickering light flared into existence as Porthos lit the candles, bathing the room in shadows. He lit a few more before turning to pull Aramis to his feet. Athos couldn't help but watch as he rose, checking that he hadn't actually injured himself in the fall.

Then he looked away, furious with himself. Hardly the most dangerous situation they'd been in today at his hand.

"Ahem," Aramis muttered pointedly, and Athos looked up to find the pair of them looming over him, shoulder to shoulder, with expressions of immense displeasure.

"Why'd you run off, eh?" Porthos asked, hauling Athos to his feet as well.

Athos allowed himself to be pulled up but stepped away at once, keeping a few feet of distance between them. "I merely wished some time to myself, to reflect on the day," he said neutrally.

Aramis snorted. "To wallow in self-hatred, you mean," he said, the words unusually blunt coming from his elegant mouth. "Honestly, did you really expect us to just let you hide away and drink yourself unconscious?"

"I hoped you would be so kind as to leave me in peace for a change," Athos retorted. "Shouldn't you be off doing something more interesting than this?"

Porthos stepped closer suddenly, crowding into his space until he stepped back, the back of his legs bumping the bed frame. "Believe me, this'll be interesting too," he growled.

Athos tried to sidestep his advance and get back to the center of the room, but suddenly Aramis was at his other side, cutting off his escape route. "Come now, Athos, don't try and tell us you weren't hoping we would come."

Athos did not answer, because he _had_ wanted them to come. He just didn't deserve them.

"I have no wish to partake tonight," he said firmly. "You'd best seek your entertainment elsewhere."

For a brief moment, he saw hurt flash in Aramis's dark eyes, and it cut through him like a knife, but he would suffer it if it kept them away from him, kept them safe. Then Porthos growled, and Aramis seemed to find strength in the sound.

"Athos, how could you think so little of us? You are far more than mere entertainment, _mon cher_."

"Too fucking right," Porthos added, inching closer again. "We ain't leavin', so quit tellin' us to. You'll hurt Aramis's feelings."

Aramis nodded, and then his fingers were brushing Athos's arm. He startled back, wondering when he'd gotten that close, only to bump against Porthos's shoulder. He felt caged, trapped between them, and it sent heat pounding unexpectedly through him.

"The way I see it," Aramis went on, speaking as if he wasn't slowly but surely cornering Athos. "You have two choices. You can tell us what is bothering you and why you are so blatantly attempting to push us away, presumably for our own good…"

"Or you can let us fuck you and tell us later," Porthos finished, a large hand coming to rest on Athos's hip when his breath hitched at the words. "Guess which way I like better."

"Now, now, Porthos, let him choose," Aramis chided, but there was a dark look in his eyes that had Athos struggling to remember why he'd ever resisted.

He found himself unable to articulate a refusal when Aramis slid forward, hands going to Athos's jaw, pulling Athos towards him until they were face to face. "Have you chosen, _mon cher_?" he asked, voice low.

Athos opened his mouth, ready to refuse, but the words didn't come, something deep within him overpowering his reservations and accepting the comfort they were offering.

Aramis smiled dangerously when he remained silent, his hands dropping to his shoulders as he leaned in and captured Athos's mouth, tongue slipping between his lips with sinful ease.

Athos's response surprised even himself as he crowded forward against Aramis, pressing their bodies together, but before his hands could fasten on Aramis's hips, he found himself encircled from behind by strong arms.

Damn. He'd forgotten Porthos.

A low chuckle in his ear made him groan into Aramis's mouth as Porthos pulled him flush against his chest, every inch of them pressing together until he could feel Porthos's arousal against his back.

Porthos nipped at his ear and he turned his head, thoughts fracturing as he tried to kiss both at once. He gasped when Aramis bit his lip for the inattention.

"That's rude of you, Athos," Porthos murmured against the shell of his ear. "You know Aramis hates bein' ignored."

Aramis hummed an agreement and pressed closer until Athos was thoroughly pinned between the pair of them. Aramis shifted his hips, circling them enticingly, and Athos struggled futilely against Porthos's hold as the last of his reservations fled. He wanted to touch, and he wanted to reclaim control from the teasing man before him.

But it seemed Aramis had other plans. He broke away to glance at Porthos, who chuckled. Then Aramis stepped back and shoved firmly at Athos's shoulders with enough force to send both he and Porthos staggering back.

Porthos's legs hit the bed and he sat down heavily, pulling Athos down with him and wriggling back until Athos sat neatly on the edge of the bed between Porthos's legs, arms still pinned to his sides despite his increasing struggles.

"Well, well," Aramis purred, stalking forward like a cat who'd cornered its prey. "I quite like this." He leaned past Athos and kissed Porthos deeply even as his hands roamed over Athos's chest. He pulled away after only a moment, leaving Athos feeling bereft. If Porthos's low growl was any indication, it had been far too short for him as well.

Aramis laughed delightedly as he stepped out of reach. "How interesting," he murmured, his eyes dancing with desire. "You cannot move, but neither can Porthos, unless he lets you go and ruins all the fun."

His smile was too smug, a predator at the top of the food chain. "It seems I have you both at my mercy."

"Is that right?" Porthos growled against Athos's ear, but when he tried to reach out and grab a handful of shirt, Athos shifted, trying to get free, and Porthos had to draw back immediately.

"Oh, I believe so, _mon cher_," Aramis said wickedly. "I do believe I am free to have my way with you, and you cannot do a thing to stop it."

Athos's muscles clenched deliciously at the dark promise written across Aramis's face as he stalked forward. Porthos half lifted his arm once more and Aramis shook his head and stepped away.

"No, no, no," he murmured huskily. "None of that. Try and grab me, and I'll draw it out even further."

Porthos subsided with a muffled growl and Aramis prowled forward again, close enough that his legs brushed against Athos's.

Athos tried to wrench free of Porthos's grasp, intent on touching Aramis, reassuring himself that the other man was really there, but Porthos's grip was unrelenting. He stilled.

"Let me go." He layered the statement with every ounce of command he possessed, and Aramis paused for a moment, dark eyes flashing, before he recovered himself.

"I don't think you're going to be giving the commands tonight," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Athos was not intimidated. "Release me at once," he snarled, trying to keep the commanding tone even with Porthos's breath hot against his neck.

Aramis tilted his head to the side, watching him with eyes so dark they seemed to be black. "You're not going to be quiet, are you?" He sounded almost pleased about this. "Well, if that's how you want it."

He stepped around the bed and out of Athos's sight for a moment. Athos felt the bed dip as Aramis clambered up beside Porthos, and then something was pressing insistently against his lips. He opened his mouth to protest and Aramis quickly slid the fabric in, tying it behind his head.

He reappeared in Athos's line of vision, smiling lazily down at him. Athos tried to order him to remove the gag at once, but all that come out were muffled grunts.

"Much better," Aramis purred, and then he was clambering into Athos's lap, pressing him back against Porthos's chest. His cock, still trapped in his breeches, brushed tantalizingly against Athos's, sending tendrils of desire shooting down his limbs. Athos groaned softly into the gag.

"You like that_, mon cher_?" Aramis asked, dark eyes gazing into his own. Athos was momentarily entranced. Then Aramis rocked his hips forward and he hissed at the friction.

"Dammit, Aramis, stop teasin'!" Porthos ordered, shifting against Athos. He could feel Porthos's erection pressing against his back.

"But _mon amour_, I'm only just getting started," Aramis murmured. His lips suddenly found Athos's neck, sucking a burning mark against his skin. Athos writhed helplessly, all thoughts of resistance now thoroughly in the past.

Porthos growled, rocking forward as if to lunge for Aramis again, but the motion simply pushed him closer to Athos, increasing the friction against his cock. He broke off with a muffled curse and Aramis pulled away to chuckle darkly.

"At my mercy," he murmured again, this time stretching past Athos to capture Porthos's lips, rolling his hips forward as he went so that Athos groaned again, futilely struggling to free his pinned arms.

After a long moment Aramis pulled back again, bucking his hips for good measure when Porthos cursed, driving Athos further into his lap.

"Patience is a virtue, _mes chers_," Aramis hummed. When Porthos growled something that sounded like, "I'll show _you_ patience," Aramis chuckled and clambered off Athos's lap, leaving him feeling suddenly bereft.

The feeling vanished when Aramis's hands dropped briefly to the ties of his own breeches before he leaned over to pull off his boots, never taking his eyes off them. Behind him, Porthos sucked in a sharp breath, arms tightening around Athos.

Aramis smiled seductively at them, clearly enjoying their undivided attention as his fingers slowly undid the knots of his breeches and slid them down his body. He wasn't wearing underwear.

Athos's mouth went dry at the sight of Aramis's cock jutting proudly against his stomach, and he bit down hard on the gag. His breath actually hitched for a moment when Aramis stepped closer once more, his hands drifting to Athos's own breeches.

"Would you like me to take these off?" he murmured roughly.

Athos nodded frantically, past caring that it was undignified. He could feel Porthos's hot breath against his neck as he watched silently.

Aramis smiled and slowly loosened the knots. "Lift your hips," he ordered. Athos obeyed, groaning when the motion jammed his ass more firmly against Porthos's cock. Aramis's long fingers slipped under the waist of his breeches and braies and pulled them swiftly down to just below his knees.

"I think that's far enough, don't you?" Aramis purred, and Athos realized his legs were securely trapped by his own breeches.

Porthos's grip tightened almost painfully when he came to the same conclusion. "Aramis," he muttered warningly, shifting helplessly behind Athos.

Aramis shot him a brilliant smile before turning his attention back to Athos. "Where were we?"

And then Aramis was in his lap again, his cock just brushing against Athos's, and he had to bite the gag to keep from keening at the mixture of relief and want that flooded through him.

Porthos was less restrained, curses flowing from his lips as he strained to find a way to lift one of his hands from Athos without leaving him free to escape. After a moment he subsided, yanking Athos back against his chest possessively.

Aramis chuckled, reaching a hand past Athos's head to stroke his fingers along Porthos's jaw just as he dipped his hips unexpectedly, rubbing his cock along the length of Athos's until he gasped and writhed beneath him.

Through the gag he managed to grind out, "Ar'mis, just-"

"Just what, _mon cher_?" Aramis asked, and Athos was gratified to hear the roughness at the edges of his smooth tone. "Was it not you who did not wish to take part, tonight? I do believe you have forfeited your right to make demands."

"Well, I haven't," Porthos growled darkly. "I thought we were meant to be punishing 'im, not me!"

Aramis sat back in Athos's lap, looking at Porthos thoughtfully. "That is true. Here." He reached out and pulled at Porthos's right hand, adjusting his forearm against Athos to keep him fully pinned. Athos made a valiant attempt to free himself, all his thoughts centered on touching the expanse of golden skin before him, but Porthos just chuckled and kept his grip.

"There!" Aramis said, sounding pleased with himself, and Athos looked down to see that Porthos's right hand was now fully mobile once more. Aramis shifted forward again until his cock brushed Athos's, and suddenly Porthos's hand was there as well, closing around them both.

Athos groaned and Aramis let out a sudden stream of Spanish. Porthos chuckled triumphantly, rocking his hips forward against Athos as his hand began to move over them, stroking down their lengths. Athos hissed past the gag as heat burst through him.

Porthos squeezed suddenly, increasing the pressure in time with the speed, and Aramis caught hold of Athos's shoulders to balance, his pretty words deserting him.

"Now who's got who at 'is mercy?" Porthos asked darkly. "Go on. Say it."

Instead of answering, Aramis shot his hips forward, driving Athos back against Porthos's lap and causing the larger man's rhythm to stutter at the fresh pressure.

"I believe this would be called a draw," Aramis gasped.

"I can live with that," Porthos chuckled, his voice slightly ragged around the edges. "Athos, you alright?"

Athos nodded blindly as desire pounded through him, seeking release.

"You're so close, _querido_," Aramis crooned. "Let go."

"Come for us," Porthos whispered in his ear, and Athos came with a strangled shout.

Aramis followed a moment later, burying his head against Athos's necks as his body shook with aftershocks, and then Porthos's arms tightened convulsively as he came in his breeches, hips spasming against Athos's back.

Aramis was a warm weight against his chest when he finally collected himself, breath tickling his neck.

"Not to be ungrateful or anything," Porthos murmured from behind him, voice half fond, half exasperated. "But this ain't entirely comfortable. Can we get on the bed at least?"

Aramis mumbled something unintelligible against Athos's neck but clambered off obediently, swaying slightly. His hand closed around Athos's shirt and drew him out of the circle of Porthos's arms to collapse beside him on the bed, curling against him with all the self-satisfaction of a cat.

His hands found the knot at the back of Athos's head, drawing the fabric away at last, and Athos saw that he'd been gagged with Porthos's bandanna.

He could hear Porthos moving about the room, presumably freeing himself from his soiled breeches, but he was content to simply lay with Aramis, his lover's warmth keeping the day's worries away.

At least until Aramis rolled slightly to rest his chin on Athos's chest, gazing down at him seriously. "Now will you tell us what is bothering you, _mon cher_?"

For a brief moment, Athos's flight instinct kicked in once more. He tried to roll away, only to find Porthos's solid presence at his back as the larger man curled around him, a heavy arm draped across his waist pinning him to the bed.

He closed his eyes, turning his face away from Aramis's concern feeling suddenly unworthy. "I sent you into danger today."

Even without looking he could sense his lovers exchanging glances across his body. "Uh, Athos, how's that any different than ev'ry other mission?" Porthos asked.

Athos shook his head, refusing to accept the offered absolution. "I sent you in without knowing the dangers, and the mission failed as a result." He opened his eyes, staring directly at Aramis. "Worse, you were almost killed."

"But Athos, I wasn't," Aramis said softly. When Athos tried to shake his head, Aramis ignored him and pressed on. "You are only human. You could not know that the warehouse had a hidden entrance. It was not your fault."

"But it wa-"

"No," Porthos growled from behind him. "It wasn't. Stop torturin' yourself about it, alright? I'm fine, you're fine, and he's fine. All fine!"

Athos could feel the guilt that had risen inside him cracking in the face of their sincerity, but he wasn't ready to let it go. He could have lost them today, and it would've been his fault.

"Athos, this is the life we lead," Aramis said gently, his fingers trailing along Athos's jaw. "We don't blame you. The captain does not blame you. So please, for our sake's, stop blaming yourself."

Athos looked up and met eyes so full of love that he felt warmed to his very core. "What he said," Porthos murmured against his ear, pressing a kiss to his neck. "Let it go, love."

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Athos nodded.

Aramis smiled happily and nuzzled closer to him, pressing his face against his neck while Porthos tightened the arm he'd flung across his waist.

"Sleep now," he ordered huskily. "Treville gave is the day off tomorrow." He lowered his voice conspiratorially, whispering for only Athos to hear.

"I reckon Aramis oughta pay for what he did tonight."

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><p><strong>Oh, what an ending, eh? Anyone wanna see what comes next? ;)<strong>


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